


Channeling Mikeyway

by Gemmi999



Category: Bandom, Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-18
Updated: 2011-03-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmi999/pseuds/Gemmi999
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike wouldn't admit it--not even to Bill under threat of torture, maiming, murder, or witholding of alcohol--but he googled himself on a semi-regular basis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Channeling Mikeyway

Mike wouldn't admit it--not even to Bill under threat of torture, maiming, murder, or witholding of alcohol--but he googled himself on a semi-regular basis. At first it had been a complete lark, just to see what would show up in the top ten back when The Academy Is... had been a tiny, mini band with barely any following.

Now, though--now that they're opening for MOTHER FUCKING KISS? Mike can't wait to see the fucking results. He has plans to look at the links and gloat a little to himself and then maybe have a few shots of whiskey because what's the point of a good gloat if you can't get drunk while doing so? That's right--there is none.

Mike sits down in front of his computer and begins to slowly type in his name. As he types the last N, his finger hovers for a second over the "Search" button, long enough for the autofill to pop up. And that's when he sees it. First search result after his name. What the ever-loving FUCK? Why the hell would someone be searching for him and a Jonas Brother of all people?

Taking a deep breath Mike hits enter. He's going to fucking need that whiskey.

~~

It's the buzzing that wakes him, persistent and next to his ear and just annoying as hell because seriously? SERIOUSLY? Bill is a fucking asshole of a friend.

Mike twists a bit, trying not to open his eyes because he knows the room is going to be bright and apparently his head isn't feeling all that nice this morning, but he manages to reach the phone and flip it open. "Whaaa?" He's not sure it was in English, but at least he'd said something.

"Wakey, Wakey." Bill's voice is chipper and Mike hates him, just a little.

"Go way--" Mike mumbles.

Bill laughs a little. "Seriously, dude. We're supposed to grab breakfast, remember? You called me last night and said something about poodles and ridiculous scarves and that you wanted waffles."

Mike grimaces to himself. It sounds like something he'd say--waffles are fucking delicious. Poodles, though, that boggled him. He didn't even like the yappy animals.

"Whatever." Mike finally says. "Come on up."

~~

Mike barely has his eyes open when Bill knocks. He's rolled around a little, squinted and looked at the room, even scratched his balls a bit. He hasn't quite remembered the previous evening, but he knew it'd all come back in a while. It always did.

"Morning." Bill calls out.

Mike grunts in reply.

"I'm gonna check my twitter while you get dressed," Bill says from the living room. "Remember to brush your fucking teeth this time."

"Fuck off."

“Seriously, your breath is killer, Carden. Floss, too.”

“Fucker.” That’s said more quietly though. Mike opens his eyes and sighs. He might as well get up because waffles really do sound slightly amazing. With strawberries, and whipped cream.

He’s half-way to the bathroom when the rest of Bill’s statement finally processes. Bill’s going to use Mike’s computer. Bill is going to tweet. Normally that isn’t alarming but for some reason Mike feels a bit apprehensive. His stomach is rolling and he doesn’t think its because he’s hung over.

Hung over. Alcohol. Gloating--fuck--he probably still has some of that weird Jonas Brothers porn on the computer screen.

Mike turns and almost runs to the living room. Except he can’t, not really, because he’s still hung over and running is a very bad idea. The mother of all bad ideas because now he doesn’t just feel bleary headed but a little sick, nauseous, and not just because of the alcohol. Mike’s been hung over enough times to know that much.

“Carden, you kinky fucker.” Bill calls from the living room.

“Don’t look!” Mike calls back, half-heartedly. But he knows its too late. If Bill’s already calling him a kinky fucker that means he’s already looked. He’s probably already emailed everyone he ever knew about it, tweeted it, called Pete and told Pete what a kinky fucker Mike is. Bill’s basically announced it to the world.

Fuck.

Just--fuck.

~~

“So I hear you like them young,” Pete laughs.

“Fuck. You.” Mike considers giving Pete the evil eye, but that’d probably just encourage him.

“No, he likes them innocent, right Mikey?” Bill’s voice is fucking gloating and if Mike didn’t have to tour with the fucker in a few days he’d probably have beaten him bloody already. Because he’s been like that the Entire. Fucking. Day. Sly innuendos, clever comments. When Bill suggested hitting up Angels and Kings, Mike thought that maybe, MAYBE, he’d finally decided to let it go.

He should have known better.

“It’s the purity rings, really.” Pete agrees. “Carden likes knowing that his man is really *his* man.”

“One's married, one's dating a Disney chick, and one's illegal. None of them are my men. ” Carden protests.

“Ha!” Pete smiles, punches Bill in the shoulder. “Five dollars you fucker. He knows how many there are.”

“Fucker.” Bill glares at Mike. “You just had to announce that, didn’t you? What'd you do, Wikipedia them? Fuck. In front of Pete.” Bill reluctantly pulls out his wallet and hands Pete a five.

Mike looks at Bill and Pete, a little confused, before shrugging his shoulders. “I need a fucking beer.” He also needed better friends, but he didn’t say that. He wasn’t *that* stupid.

~~

Eventually, Bill lets it go. They have a tour to get ready for, which basically meant practicing a lot for long durations of time, and practice doesn't go that well when Mike is fuming and plotting Bill’s eventual murder.

Pete doesn’t let it go so much as get caught up in the latest adventures of being both married and a father.

And okay, the others look at him a little weird for a few minutes but Mike just mutters something about not googling yourself and they nod, make understanding faces and agree to let it go. Mostly.

It’s just--mysterious items keep showing up around the practice space. Items Mike never thought he’d see, let alone *own*. A Jonas Brothers lunchbox, a Jonas Brothers rug. Fuck, he’d even found Jonas Brothers *PENCILS* the other day.

Mike could take a ribbing with the best of them, but seriously--pencils? Whoever was doing the fucking marketing for the Jonas Brothers had to be either high out of their fucking minds or Brendon Urie, OR BOTH. But, it wasn’t bad and Mike had enough to do before to the tour that he didn’t even really care.

Most of the mysterious items make their way into the trash (although Mike had some suspicions that Bill might have kept a couple for Genevieve). Mike does keep one of the pencils, though. It's sparkly and entertaining, especially when he's high. He can just turn it around in his fingers and watch the light shine off the glitter.

Plus, pink is totally his color.

~~

“Got you a present,” Sisky says just as Mike’s climbing onto the tour bus.

Mike nods, smiles, but doesn’t respond because he’s fucking *terrified* of what Sisky got him. It isn’t his birthday, or Christmas, or fuck--May Day. It's fucking the start of tour and Sisky got him a *present*.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what it is?” Sisky’s taunting him now, Mike knows it.

“No.” Mike doesn’t saying anything else, just climbs onto the bus and throws his bag down on the couch. He’d fucking claim a bunk but Bill isn’t there yet and Bill had very definite ideas on what bunk he typically wanted. Ideas that ended with Mike having to pack his shit up because it was *always*, inevitably, the bunk he picked out. Mike learned quickly to just wait until Bill picked and then settle in. It made the first days of tour that much easier.

“But Mikey--” Sisky’s still talking to him, loudly, about the fucking present. “I went to Target and got it for you special.”

“Fuck.” Mike mutters. “Fine, what’d you get me Siska?”

“Aren’t you going to guess?”

“I’m not fucking 5 years old. Just tell me.” Mike braces himself for the bad news. Whatever its going to be.

“Fuck. I just picked you up some new sheets for the bunk. Last time you kept complaining about not having new ones.” Sisky looks a little sad and Mike scowls. Just--of course it was Sisky being nice. He isn’t a fucking asshole like other members of the band whose names start with 'B' and rhyme with 'fill'.

“Thanks,” Mike throws out. He’s not a complete douche. His mom raised him with manners and a fondness for whiskey--she's a fucking great mom.

“Don’t mention it,” Sisky replies. “I put them on your bunk.”

Mike thinks about protesting that he doesn’t even have a bunk yet, but he knows better. He fucking *knows* better because if Sisky already put them on his bunk that means fucking Bill is involved, and if Bill is involved that means that the entire fucking band knows about it and they’re all probably waiting to capture his reaction to whatever the fuck this is and suddenly Mike feels a bit of dread. Not much, because they’re fucking on tour with Kiss and pranks are to be expected. But a little.

He stands up and wanders towards the back of the bus, doesn’t bother moving his bag because he’s fucking hoping that someone trips over it, or sits on it, or somehow hurts themselves with it because they’re all a part of this. The fuckers.

He’s in back and there’s only one bunk that has the curtain open and as Mike glances at it he groans because of course, of FUCKING COURSE, they got him sheets. Jonas Brothers sheets. He’s beginning to really regret the decision to google his name. Really fucking regret it.

“Thanks, you fuckers.” Mike calls out. “Just what I always wanted.”

“Bill thought you’d want to sleep with Kevin close to your heart.” Sisky explains from the front of the bus.

“Fuck that shit,” Bill responds. He must have arrived when Mike wasn’t looking. “He just wants to get naked with them, right Carden?”

“All of them?” Butcher asks.

“Isn’t the young one illegal?”

“So he wants to sleep with two thirds of the Jonas Brothers.” Bill sounds a little whimsical. “Technical details.”

“I’ll technical details your ass.” Mike announces as he joins his bandmates at the front of the bus.

“Doesn’t even make sense.” and “Lame.” and “Seriously man, that’s the best you can do?” All three say at the same time.

Whatever, Mike’s slept on worse. At least they're fucking *clean*.

~~

“Did you know the fuckers have a TV show?” Bill asks from the back lounge. “An entire fucking television show dedicated to their antics.”

“What fuckers are you talking about?” Mike asks, looking up from his computer.

“Your fuckers, idiot.” Bill says it fondly, though, with a smile on his face. Mike sighs. That’s the newest name for the Jonas Brothers--his fuckers--and he's even beginning to like it. It helps that the sheets are fucking comfortable.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna tivo it for you.” Bill announces. “I’ll make it record ALL the episodes so you can watch it when I’m not here.”

“Don’t want to see it?” Mike asks, laughing a little.

“Don’t want to see you making moon eyes at them,” Bill replies. “Plus, all three of them on screen? It’s probably like porn for you.”

“Porn is porn.” Mike says. “Three Jesus-freaks--” Mike just shakes his head.

“Don’t front. You totally have it bad for the Kevin dude.”

“Whatever,” Mike turns his attention back to the computer. “Just don’t delete Megaskank Vs. Giant Octopussy for that shit.”

“You say that now.” Bill grins.

~~

Mike knows his bandmates are planning something. They have to be--they fucking let him delete the Jonas Brothers shit without watching any episodes, and when he changed his sheets to something less Disney related they’d been virtually quiet. All of which means they're planning something big.

Which is when the idea strikes him. It’d be brilliant if he can pull it off, fucking hilarious and wonderful and they'll probably stop it with their infernal pestering, too. Fuck--Mike has to figure this shit out.

Which naturally means he has to call Pete. Pete’ll know the right people, make it happen. Pete is a mother fucking genius at this shit.

~~

“Where are we fucking going?” Mike asks, impatiently. He’s sitting in the backseat of a random van, probably rented just for this occasion because he knows Pete and Pete is a fucking careful fucker.

“Dunno,” Bill shrugs. “Pete said it was important, though.”

“Fucking Pete.” Mike says.

“Seriously.” Sisky agrees. “I fucking want some tacos.”

“Yeah, well.” Bill looks at the two of them and shakes his head. “We’re not going to Siberia or anything.”

Mike doesn’t listen. Instead he asks: “Why doesn’t Chiz have to go, huh? Or Butcher?”

"Don’t. Know.” Bill says. “Pete told me to grab you two, that he had a surprise for us.”

“Whatever.” Sisky says. “Just let me know when we get there, okay?”

~~

“Wonderful, you made it!” Pete grins as Mike climbs out of the van. Bill’s already standing outside the stage door and from the sound of the screams inside he knows what’s fucking going on.

“A Jonas Brothers concert?” Sisky asks, shaking his head in disbelief. “You shouldn’t have!”

“But of course I did! Especially when Mikey here has such an adorable crush on the poodle one.” Pete smiles. “Come on, you get to meet them before the concert starts.”

“Of course we do.” Bill drawls out. “Of fucking course.” But Mike can tell his eyes are smiling. He’s probably fucking having fun imagining Mike’s humiliation.

“Let’s get this over with.” Mike says, heading into the venue.

Mike’s grinning manically inside, knowing his plan is going to take off, come to fruition, fucking bite Bill on the fucking ass. He just has to make sure he has the photographic evidence to prove it, is all.

~~

Backstage is backstage, just like every other venue they’ve ever played at. A bit louder because of screaming fangirls, but Mike knows how annoying that can get.

Pete’s leading the three of them forward, guiding them through the maze, and Mike’s happy that it's all working out. Ecstatically happy, dancing in his shoes. The plan is going forward and then he fucking gets to turn it around on Bill. Fucking finally.

“Here were are, fuckers.” Pete grins.

“Great,” Mike deadpans. Can’t do to look *too* eager now.

And Pete knocks.

 ~~

Mike stands towards the back of the room, not talking to anyone, trying to look surly enough to make Sisky and Bill think he doesn’t want to be here.

The meeting is going smoothly, exactly what Mike had hoped for. Pete introduces the brothers and Mike doesn’t bother listening to their names--in his head they’re known as Brother 1, Brother 2, Brother Illegal, and that’s how its going to fucking stay. Probably.

After, Bill’s sitting on the couch talking to one of them, hopefully the oldest, when Pete slides up besides Mike. “Operation Photo is a go.” Pete whispers, covertly. Or rather, he tries to be covert. He’s loud enough that Sisky looks at the two of them suspiciously before Mike shrugs.

Mike then goes back to looking surly before whispering back: “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, their parents are apparently somewhere else and Kevin thinks it's funny as hell.”

“Which one’s Kevin?” Mike asks.

“The one flirting with Bill.” Pete grins.

“Wonderful.” If Mike could do the Mr. Burns evil cackle? He’d fucking be cackling away. Instead he stands back and surreptitiously takes his cell phone out of his pocket. He flips it open and has just finished turning the camera feature on when Kevin makes his move.

Kevin’s leaning forward, placing a hand on Bill’s knee and looking at him pretty adoringly. Mike is trying not to laugh.

Sisky’s looking at them and then looking at Mike, back and forth, back and forth, before he grins. He shoots Mike a thumbs-up before he gets his own cell out. Blackmail opportunities are fucking priceless.

Kevin’s still leaning forward, slowly invading Bill’s space, and Bill looks as close to freaked out as he ever does. Mike can hear him whispering: “--but you're married!” to Kevin and Kevin just shakes his head.

“We have an understanding,” and now Mike is trying REALLY hard not to bust out laughing because this is going better then he ever thought it would. Bill looks as if he’s about to crap his pants--being hit on by a Jonas Brother, of all people--and Mike is taking picture after picture.

He’d promised Pete that the photos would be deleted later that night, after they scared Bill a little bit (wouldn’t do for the tiny Jonas fans to see them, after all) but this is fucking gold. Mike almost wishes he could keep the photos, just a little bit.

Bill’s leaning backwards, away from Kevin, but the couch is only so big and he can’t lean backwards forever.

“But I don’t!” Bill tries. “My fiancee wouldn’t like this very much.” And Mike’s eyes widen because Bill’s fucking playing the Fiancee card--he must really be freaked out.

And Kevin? Kevin actually appears to listen. He stops leaning forward, takes his hand of off Bill’s knee, and smiles at him a little. “Sorry man, just--Pete asked me to freak you out.”

And that’s when Mike knows he’s in trouble. Bill turns and looks at Pete, looks at Mike, sees the cell phone and he’s grinning a huge fucking grin. Before Mike can even anticipate what Bill’s going to do, Bill’s already doing it. Reaching in and grabbing Kevin’s shoulders and turning him enough so he can lean in and kiss him. Deeply. On the mouth.

Mike laughs a bit because there’s nothing like being called on his own shit. The other two Jonas Brothers are cheering Kevin on, and that is not exactly what Mike wants to associate with Jonas Brother 2 and Jonas Brother Illegal. But whatever.

Pete laughs and shrugs. “Hey, at least you tried, man.”

“Whatever.” Mike nods. “Bill’s gonna get a hell of a story out of this.”

Sisky agrees. “Maybe we’ll give him your Jonas Brothers sheets.”

“After I wash them, sure.” Mike agrees.

Pete looks at the two of them and laughs again. “Do you have a Jonas Brothers pencil? I can totally hook you up if you want.”

Mike shakes his head. “I think we’re good on the merchandise, but if you want to make The Academy Is... pencils? I’d be down.”

“Or sheets!” Jonas Brother 2 says. “I could use some The Academy Is... sheets.”

“Really?” Mike asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah, why do you think Kevin agreed to go along with this whole plan anyway?”

Mike shrugs. “I figured Pete did his usual magic.”

Jonas Brother Illegal laughs. “If by magic you mean he told Kevin to google himself, then yeah. He did his magic.”

Jonas Brother 2 adds: “For some reason your name came up.”

Mike looks at the two of them and shrugs. “Didn’t you learn anything from Mikeyway? Don’t google yourself.”


End file.
